A Restless Night
by timeforacoffeebreak
Summary: Spain cannot get to sleep AT ALL. In the middle of the night, he finds a light switched on and hears noises around the house. COULD IT BE A BURGLAR? Featuring classical ditzy Spain and a sensitive Romano.


**A Restless Night [Spain x Romano]**

**I do not own Hetalia or any characters. All rights go to the respectful owners.**

* * *

><p><em>Started writing this at 3am in the morning, so please excuse the lack of better creativity.<em>

_Actually based on my own experience last night. Drank too much coffee and tea, painful headache, and a loud party raving across the street from 4pm-5am in the morning. Literally no sleep at all. My first written fanfic story. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Spain squinted at the dim light seeping through the crack underneath the bedroom door. Ugh, he was sure he had switched off all the lights in the house before hopping into bed last night. Guess not. He sat up in bed, disoriented, and still groggy. He'd have to turn off the abominable thing. The room was so dark that even the faintest speck burned his eyes. <em>THAT <em>certainly did not help the killer headache he already had. It had been a restless night, thanks to a certain forgetful someone drinking hot coffee despite having to wake up early afterwards.

Dios mío, why did he feel so hung over? It wasn't like he had been out drinking with Gilbert and Francis last night, only to be head-butted by a certain raging Italian upon returning home in the early hours of the next morning; an episode he had just experienced last week. Díos mío, ¡solamente fue café!

Stumbling out from the warm comforts that was his bed, the sleepy Spaniard staggered towards the annoying beacon of light.

He hadn't gotten very far when he suddenly stopped, hand frozen on the door handle. Was that a noise he heard just now? Instinctively grabbing the closest thing nearest him – which happened to be a tomato-printed umbrella – this courageous Spaniard charged out like a bull in the bull fighting ring, into the living room.

Forget about being stealthy and launching a surprise attack on the burglar. He was a Conquistador, back in the day, and they held nothing back. Wielding it in his grip, he was going to prove just _how _deadly he could be with an umbrella.

Thinking was something Spain didn't usually do this early in the morning. Especially not a sleep-deprived and delirious one; completely hell-bent on destroying the person who dared disrupt his sleep.

But it wasn't until he actually charged in there, umbrella at the ready, that Spain realised the huge flaw in his plans. Perhaps he _should _take his own advice and think before acting on impulse …

There, curled up in a tight ball on the couch, was Romano. If it hadn't been for the curl sticking up from the tousled mess of brown, Spain wouldn't have realised that the shrivelled lump was actually the Italian.

"Lovi? What's wrong?" He thought he could hear quiet sniffling. Hesitantly, Spain slowly approached him. There was no telling when Romano's head or some other part of his body would suddenly dart out and punch Spain in the gut.

"Lovi," Spain called his name again. The sleepiness had completely disappeared now, overwhelming concern flooding throughout his core. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," was the feeble reply. Romano looked up from where he had buried his head in his arms. "I couldn't get to sleep. Dammit, it's all your fault."

Pardon? Spain had to really strain his ears to hear the answer, and even then he wasn't sure if that was really Romano talking or his imagination playing tricks again.

The Italian suddenly burst into small sobs. It was if he had been holding the tears back for a long time, and now he just simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, Lovi." Hands on his henchman's shoulders, Spain pulled Romano towards him so that he was sitting in his lap on the couch. They sat there for the next few minutes, completely silent save for the stifled sobs.

Spain's attempt at calming the Italian seemed to work. Gently rubbing his back in slow rhythmic circles worked wonders. He was half-glad, things hadn't changed that much after all. He remembered those sleepless nights when, for no apparent reason whatsoever, Lovi would break down. And Spain would just sit with him, just like he was doing now, and comfort the younger one.

Although he had grown much larger and all the more beautiful - Lovi was still Lovi, even after all these years.

"Aw, Lovi. Want to sleep with Boss?" Spain whispered, lips brushing olive skin, caressing the Italian's neck in sweet kisses.

"Bastard."

A low chuckle escaped from the back of his throat when Romano choked back a short gasp. Apologetically, he ran his tongue over where he had just nipped Romano at the nape of the neck.

"I mean actually to sleep," he clarified, lifting up Romano's chin so that he could stare into those deep pools of hazel. "Unlike you, Boss needs to desperately sleep."

As if to prove that he was actually telling the truth, Spain let out a great big yawn. He looked at the clock on the wall. Great. 4am already and he still hadn't caught a wink of sleep.

"Come to bed." A quick peck on the nose, and then Spain was taking Romano's hands and pulling him towards the bedroom.

Ah, that was better. Back in the comfort of his bed with a very warm and extremely cuddly Romano in his arms, Spain was on the verge of immediately drifting off to sleep, right there and then.

"Te amo, Lovi. Buenas noches," Spain murmured. Content, Spain could finally fall into a deep slumber for the first time that night.

So eager was he to fall asleep that he missed the soft mumbled response. "Anch'io ti amo, bastardo," Romano said quietly, before his own eyelids fluttered closed.

* * *

><p><strong>Translation Notes:<strong>

**Dios mío = Oh My God**

**Díos mío, ¡solamente fue café! = Good god, it was just coffee! / 'It was just coffee for the love of God' **

**Te amo, Lovi. Buenas noches = I love you Lovi, good night**

**Anch'io ti amo, bastardo = I love you too, bastard**


End file.
